


A Change of Pace.

by NoelleWynters



Series: A Redeeming Path. [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleWynters/pseuds/NoelleWynters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice wasn't the first person to find him and view him as a person over a possession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Pace.

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer applies: I own nothing, this is all for fun.
> 
> Another quick note, the character Rayan actually come from a flashback in _Why Me?_. I stated at the end of that one it could go with my AU I created, but I retract that now.

The years were passing by far too quickly for Rayan, but he found time to stop and find pleasure in simple things. He was an old man now, he could be a bit eccentric if he liked, and literally stop to smell the flowers if the notion struck him. No one said anything if he wanted to sample a few things in the market before making a purchase, as he always paid well. And he enjoyed talking to all he met, but still he was a lonely man when he entered his empty home.

A place that had once been filled with light and laughter, but it held none of that anymore. His wife, Farvah, had passed away a few years ago. Many thought it was simply old age catching up with her, but he knew it was from a broken heart. Their only son, Danyal, had been claimed by a fever that had taken so many in their village a decade prior, and she had never fully recovered from the shock and grief.

As for Rayan, he had continued on. He believed everything came to pass for a reason and although he was angry and upset over the sudden death of his son, and the eventual decline of his wife, he knew it was all for a purpose. There was a higher power that knew best, and he simply had to accept the trials and continue on.

Farvah and Danyal had been loved in the village, as was he, and after their deaths he swore he would continue to be as good to everyone he met just as they had been. He doubled his efforts to make sure everyone he met was happy, and although some whispered he was going a bit dotty in his old age, he shrugged it all off with a laugh. What difference did it make what they thought?

He smiled as he walked towards his home, noticing the children at play close by. He loved to watch them; their laughter always brightened his mood, no matter if he was in good spirits or feeling depressed. There was something to be said for the cheerful laughter of children, it was one of the few joys he had in his solitary life.

That day though, his content smile dropped from his aged face when he noticed they were kicking around a bottle. When it wasn’t in motion, he could tell it was something that could be of worth. The dying light of day gleaming off the polished brass gave him pause to wonder if they’d stolen it from a seller in the market; it was not unheard of for some of the children to take things that they fancied.

“Stop that, you will ruin that bottle! Those types of items are not toys to be kicked around in the dirt, give it here,” Rayan admonished as he walked towards the young children.

The sound of his voice startled them, and they took off in a hurry. Obviously what they were using as a toy was of no value to them, as they left the brass bottle behind in the dirt. He slowly knelt down to retrieve it, shaking his head at how dirty it had become during their play.

“I suppose I’ll just have to take home and clean it inside and out, if no one claims it I’ll just keep it for myself. It has a rather interesting looking design on it, what I can see for the dirt,” he muttered, heading into his home.

**********

Cyrus knew he deserved everything he got for the way he’d been. Every horrible master and unkind word, but he was really wondering what he’d done to warrant his bottle being used as, what he could only assume, a toy. He was starting to wonder how much more he could repent just to stop this insanity; he didn’t enjoy being tossed around like a child’s ragdoll. Not to mention that as his bottle was being kicked around in the dirt, some was coming in through the grating at the bottom.

He was getting rather tired of it all, he’d much prefer being left forgotten for decades on end over this.

Much to his relief, the children ceased their play, but he then realized someone had decided to retrieve his bottle from the dirt. Cyrus ran his fingers through his wavy hair, in an effort to remove some of the dirt he was certain had accumulated there, and hoped this person would let him out. Or at the very least, stick him on a shelf where he wouldn’t find himself subjected to children’s games again. It was bad enough he wasn’t sure how to get rid of all the sand and dirt he now had to deal with.

Right when he fancied he wasn’t going to be seeing daylight in the near future, he felt the familiar pull when someone pulled the cork out of his bottle whilst rubbing it.

Rayan was rather shocked when an orange mist began to pour out of the bottle he was about to dump in a bucket of water to start cleaning it. He’d heard of genies before, but never entertained the idea of ever finding one. He watched in awe as the mist dissipated and a young man appeared before him.

He listened as the man spoke his piece, calling him master and giving him three wishes. He always thought they were just a spoken agreement, never would have thought they were three little crimson coloured jewels. He looked them over curiously for a moment or two, watching how the setting sun pouring through the window caught them and made them sparkle.

Cyrus raised his eyes cautiously; he’d been learning that not every master appreciated him looking them in the eyes. He was grateful this man had seemingly been the one to stop the children in their play, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think the man would see him as anything other than a possession as well.

He was rather surprised to see the older man leave the wishes on the table and turn towards a small stove to start the fire within. He’d never seen anyone just set their wishes aside, as if they meant nothing. He was aching to ask why, but it wasn’t his place. He didn’t ask questions, he answered them or granted wishes, that was all.

Rayan had caught the genie’s expression out of the corner of his eye when he’d put the wishes aside, and it amused him greatly. He had no use for wishes really, he was nearing the end of his days and had a comfortable life, what more could he need? The genie had said he couldn’t bring back the dead or change the past, so there was nothing her wanted or needed. He’d only picked the bottle up to clean it and to discover who owned it, this certainly had never occurred to him in the least.

“Would you like some tea? I like some tea in the evening; it makes everything right with the world. I can imagine you could use a cup after being kicked around out there,” he rambled as he went about finding what he needed to prepare the tea. He continued to talk, every so often glancing over at the genie who was just looking at him with a bit of a confused expression in his dark eyes. “I know you can talk, you did that when you suddenly appeared.”

Still, the genie said nothing. Rayan put a kettle over the fire to boil the water for tea, and began to wonder why he wasn’t talking. Did genies only say what was necessary and couldn’t speak otherwise? That seemed a little strange to him, they must need to talk and say something other than ‘master mine, my will is thine’ and the bit about wishes and rules. He could tell by looking at the young man, although he was likely much older than he appeared, that he wanted to talk. What had happened over the years to make him so unwilling to speak?

In an effort to make the genie talk, he started busying himself with preparing the tea, and babbling on about the sweets he’d bought at the market a few hours prior, saying how delicious they were as he’d sampled quite a few before buying any. Rayan would get the genie to talk, one way or another. He didn’t understand why he refused to, it was obvious he wanted to speak, but sadly he was discovering the mythical being had a will a lot stronger than he thought, and was not going to no matter what he did. That, of course, was ignoring the fact the genie had said his will belonged to Rayan. Obviously he had one of his own as well, and it was determined not to allow him to utter a word.

Finally he walked up to the, or he supposed, his genie, and tilted his gaze up to look at him. The genie was a good foot or so taller than him, and looked a bit of a mess. He concluded that was from being kicked around for however long those children had his bottle. “Look at you, a complete and total mess. You really should have tidied yourself up beforehand. Maybe I should have dropped the bottle in water first, given you a bit of a bath.”

That got the genie to break his silence. “You were going to what?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “I can’t say I’d have appreciated that much more than whatever was happening beforehand.”

A smile broke over Rayan’s face as he poked the genie in the chest with an aged finger. “I knew I could make you talk. Now that you’ve figured out how to say something other than that line about masters and wishes, do you have a name?”

“A name?” Cyrus was baffled, no one ever asked for his name. In truth he’d had many kind masters, they outweighed the bad, but none ever entertained the idea that he might actually have a name he would like to be called by, over simply being referred to as ‘genie’.

Rayan snorted and rolled his eyes. “It would seem I found a parrot instead of a genie,” he muttered, turning when the kettle began to make a whistling sound, signaling the water was boiled.

Cyrus watched him, still confused. But a chance to be called by his name again, after all this time, he just couldn’t pass that up. “It’s Cyrus, my name is Cyrus.”

The smile brightened even more over Rayan’s face as he poured the steaming water into the teapot before setting the kettle aside in favour of finding cups. “That is a very nice name, Cyrus. I had thought to name a son that, if my wife and I had been blessed with a second son, but that is the past. Sit down, you’re making me nervous standing there perfectly still.”

Cyrus nodded, and moved towards the table where a few chairs stood. “Yes master,” he answered as he pulled one out to sit.

“None of that,” Rayan snapped, apologizing when he noted the look of shock that washed over Cyrus’ face at his tone of voice. “If you call me ‘master’, I’ll call you ‘genie’. I can tell you want to be called by your given name, so if I am to call you that, you’ll call me by mine. My name is Rayan.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is going to turn into a series of one shots, I thought about leaving this as a chapter story, but I think one shots would work just as well, even if I keep using the original character in this for a few. I'm waiting for Cyrus' back story to come to light really, just to weave a bit of it in here and there to go with what I've done in _Weighing Words_ , although I won't be surprised if he doesn't get much of a story (I'm being bratty, the guide description lists his part of the episode last, I'm not impressed...they need a second season just to give Cyrus more development I swear).
> 
> Either way, there will be more eventually, I'm not sure how much interest there is in stories centered solely on Cyrus honestly. I love the character, but I'm not sure many others do.


End file.
